Us Struggling Youth
by obsessedbutonline
Summary: Stiles never wanted to go to a school for crazy people, but with his history with self-harm and worsening anxiety, his dad thought it was the place he needed to be. But when the management is at threat, the pupils decide that they deserve some time away, and the camp of the ages was born. What happens when a group of not so well teens decide they want to rebel for one final hurrah?
1. The Drop Off

"You are going to be amazing," John said, a smile firmly planted on his strained face.

His hands gripped Stiles shoulders as if he was trying to use the words to convince himself.

They stood next to the battered sheriff's car parked haphazardly at the side of the long gravel drive, in a clearing in the trees, south of Beacon Hills by a few hundred miles.

"Sure," Stiles snorted, frowning at the ground in an effort to ignore the sprawling grounds laid out ahead. "I'll be just fine in an asylum specifically for crazy teens, sounds perfect." He mutters sourly, feeling guilty as his father wilts in front of him. Stepping back, he lets John's hand slip off of his shoulder and hefts his bag onto his shoulder.

"I want you to be safe." John sighs, taking the bag from his son as he turns to frown at him. The fight seeps out of Stiles as he sees the lines of worry etched into John's weathered face. He hated the realisation that he had become an addition to his worry, especially after his Mom. He wasn't being fair.

"I'll come back good as new." Stiles joked, but it came out flat. They walked in silence up the remainder of the driveway, the big, regal house and the surrounding smaller buildings coming into view.

Squinting, Stiles saw the sign embossed on a plague on the front door.

Rosedale Academy For Struggling Youth.

He grimaced, the words sounding strange and irregular as they rattled around his head. Wrapping his shirt further round his lean frame, he tried to escape the non-existent breeze twisting around him. He wasn't struggling, at least not enough to need this place. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't.

If only he hadn't done it again. He thought, berating himself for leaving a mark that could be seen so easily, because it was so, so easy for his dad to see and explode, and dump him with the nearest loony bin he could find. He felt the twinge of sharp pain against his side as he pressed his arm against his side, a nervous tick he couldn't seem to shake.

"It looks nice," He mumbled, the words so opposite to the thoughts churning through his brain. His stomach began to flutter, and he felt his jaw begin to chatter, a sure sign of his nerves.

"Yeah! Yeah." John said, eager to reply to his practically nonverbal son. "They have a library, and a pool-" Stiles shuddered at the thought. "-and courts out back, and a gym." He reeled off the words like he'd been relishing them for a while, and the sick feeling in Stiles' stomach only deepened.

"Sounds, fun," Stiles replied lamely, slowing to a halt at the front door that seemed to loom up before him. John smiles encouragingly, and after seeing Stiles refused to go first, simply sighed and opened the door, stepping inside, followed slowly by his son.

The room was brightly lit and clinical, yet the walls were covered in posters with smiling people and witty slogans, all promising help to the "struggling teens". A woman sat perched against a desk, leafing through a pile of paperwork before looking up at their entrance, and smiling.

"Oh, hey!" She smiled welcomingly and stood up to shake both their hands. "You must be John and-" Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Stiles," John and Stiles said in unison, used to the confusion regarding his name. The woman looked confused, before seeming to accept the name, an amused smile on her face.

Stiles felt a prickle of nerves spike up through his stomach, making his fingers tremble and his teeth clack together in his mouth. Melissa looked at him, her smile softening.

"I'm Melissa, and I'm in charge around here, I'm kind of a big thing." She joked, a sarcastic jut to her eyebrows. "You'll see me around teaching groups, and you're in a few of my sessions."

Stiles smiled, his mouth frozen shut as he heard his heart hammering in his ribcage. Melissa seemed to understand though, simply inclining her head at him in a simple nod, content to simply introduce herself for now.

"I'll send you through to the changing rooms in a minute, if you could just get dressed into the clothes in there for now so we're sure you're not carrying any weapons or contraband, or anything we don't allow in your person. Don't worry, It's nothing too hideous!" She smiles encouragingly, and Stiles' stomach drops.

The pencil sharpener blade had been tucked neatly into the seam of his back pocket, a constant reminder as he felt the unmistakable shape whenever he moved.

"Okay," He mumbled, wide eyes on John, who shrugged helplessly, his small smile straining as he saw his sons evident distress.

Melissa gestured to a door, and he slowly walked over to it, eyes on the ground as he tried to formulate a plan to hide the blade. Jumping to the side in shock, his eyes widened as a lanky boy with mussed curly blond hair darted out of the door, his gaunt face harbouring a large yellowing bruise along his jaw, Stiles caught his breath, and stood to the side as the boy passed him with a pile of clothing held limply in his hands.

He heard the dregs of a conversation drift out from behind him as the door swung shut.

"Isaac! See, the clothes are pretty good, huh?" He heard Melissas lightly cajoling voice before the rest of the conversation turned to a dull hum behind the thick door.

Turning to face the rest of the room, Stiles let out a shaky breath, scanning the shelves with different white short-sleeved shirts in piles along them. Looking at the other side of the room, he saw piles of grey jeans, the sizes going up the further along the shelf he looked. Gingerly opening a box under the shelf, he groaned as he saw balled-up pairs of socks and even fresh pairs of underwear. They really were thorough.

Gulping, he shakily reached for a t-shirt, fingers tracing the short sleeves in horror. Shit. Pulling up his own longer sleeves, he hissed through his teeth at the scars and fresher cuts peeking out from under the bandage.

Standing silently in the centre of the dim room, he tried to filter out the hum of the people in the other room, only a few metres away from him. Thoughts raced through his head as he tried to think of ways to hide the blade and stop the bandage from looking so obvious next to the stark white of the shirt.

Stepping out of his jeans, he sighed, staring at the scars lining the skin that usually lay hidden under multiple layers of fabric. Pulling another pair off the shelf, he held them against himself experimentally, before pulling them on. They fit loosely against his hips, and he did them up before nervously turning to the shelf containing the shirts. Why did they have to be short sleeved? He lamented their design, an internal storm brewing as quickly as the thoughts formulated.

Tugging one out of the pile, he shakily took his own plaid shirt, then stripping off the iron man t-shirt under it, the colder air hitting him in a rush. Quickly putting the new shirt on, he squirmed, the itchy fabric an uncomfortable feeling after the soft, worn feeling of his own shirt. Tugging it down, as low as it could go, he huffed out a displeased breath and tried in vain to still his nerves.

Turning to the pile of his old discarded clothes, he fished the blade out of the back pocket of his jeans, debating where to hide it on his self. The new pair of jeans had no pockets, most likely to make it harder to do what he was doing. A sudden thought struck him, and he slipped the cool metal into his sock, hoping against hope that they wouldn't search there.

Taking a few seconds to steady his breath and scoop up the pile of clothes, Stiles opened the door. Stepping back out into the reception, his eyes widened as he watched his dad pass Melissa his Adderall and other meds, but as he appeared around the corner, Melissa smiled warmly.

"Hey! The clothes look good." She said, obviously trying to make him feel less mortified at the invasive start to his visit.

"Thanks," He mumbled, handing over the piles of clothes, painfully aware of how both Melissa and his dad had a full view of the bandage on his arm. He pulled his arms behind him as Melissa took his bag and clothes into another room, where she told him they'd be taken to his room.

John pulled him into a hug, and Stiles sagged weakly against him, shuddering as he felt the air hit his arm. He tried to hide them at all costs, but now the choice had been forced away from him, he felt stripped down to the bone.

"I love you," John said as he fixed serious eyes on Stiles' wary ones.

"I love you too, pops," Stiles said quietly, squirming now in his touch.

Melissa reappeared, the ever-present smile still on her face."I'm afraid you two will have to say goodbye for now, until visiting time next Saturday."

Stiles sighed, his nerves back in full force as the realisation he truly was leaving his dad to stay in a stark, strange house of strange children. They exchanged a long hug, John recounting all the things he wanted Stiles to remember, and with one final promise to return on the next Saturday, he left, Stiles turned to Melissa, dread in his eyes as the two were left alone in the reception.

"I'll take you to meet your roommates, and settle in!" She said, guiding him towards another larger set of doors. "Welcome to Rosedale Academy, Stiles."


	2. The Pit

"This is the eating hall, but we also have assembly's here every Tuesday to give awards to people who have done well that week, it's all very normal-"

Melissa's voice seemed to drone on and on as she led Stiles around the grounds, they seemed to stretch on forever. He peeked at the other students milling around in little groups around the hall, trying not to draw attention to himself. They stared openly at him, their curious eyes fixed on the latest newcomer.

"How do I get my meds?" Stokes asked suddenly, the thought occurred to him as he ground to a halt. Melissa stopped walking and looked at him, Stiles realised he'd interrupted her. "Sorry," He mumbled, a light blush on his cheeks.

Melissa chuckled and shook her head dismissively at his apology. "It's alright, I get it can be a little much when you first get here!" Stiles scoffed under his breath, that was an understatement. "I give you your meds every time they need to be prescribed, so you'll be fine. It's only to stop you from taking too many."

Her voice was light, but Stiles sighed as he heard the underlying serious note to the words. Had it happened at the school before?

They finally walked out of the hall, and Stiles let out a sigh of relief when they were past the other students.

"I'll take you to your cabin, and let you get settled down. You can meet the other boys you'll be rooming with, and the girls in your group in about an hour, sound okay?" Melissa asked, leading Stiles over to a row of cabins curling around the edge of the large clearing.

"Yeah, sure…" Stiles said, unwilling to be left alone, yet also excited to finally have a moment of silence. She fished a pair of keys out of her pocket and handed them to Stiles.

"These are yours, don't lose them, don't let anyone not in your group into the cabin, have fun!" She chirped, before giving him a final grin and leaving off up the path towards the main building, he watched as she smiled and greeted every person she passed, she was too happy.

Fiddling with the keys, he pushed the biggest one into the lock, taking a few agonizing minutes to work out how to get it to open.

Finally, the door emitted a low click, and swung open, Stiles stepped inside, the dim light filtering past the closed curtains as he walked over to the bottom bunk of a bed, where his bag sat next to his pile of clothes.

There was another door leading off of the room, and Stiles walked tentatively over to it, pushing it open. He walked into the room and saw a small bathroom with a simple shower, toilet and sink. Looking into the mirror, he frowned, surveying his hollow cheeks and gaunt eyes. His collarbone pushed against his skin, making him look sickly and tired.

Heading out of the bathroom, he backed away from the mirror and back to his new bed. Rapidly looking over his shoulder, he picked the pile of clothes back up off of the bed and darted into the bathroom to tug them back on.

Emerging back to the main space of the cabin, he sighed, flopping onto the bed and idly rubbing his arm through the soft fabric of the familiar shirt. The twinge of the cuts underneath it lulled him into a sense of familiarity, however melancholy.

He jumped violently, instinctively wrapping his arms around himself and sitting bolt upright on the bed as the door banged open, an agitated boy walking through the opening. Stiles recognised him as the boy he had seen in the reception as he had left the changing room. Was his name-

"Isaac." The boy shoved his hand under Stiles' nose, making him jerk out of his thoughts. He stared at the boy wondering what he was doing. Slowly leaning back, he tried to discreetly get away from him.

Realising he'd alarmed him, Isaac grimaced and retracted his hand. "Sorry, I mean-" He paused, deep in thought. "-Hi I'm Isaac and I'm in your group nice to meet you."

Stiles gaped at him, wondering what the boy's problem was, and if he truly was trying to get to know him, or if he really was in a house of crazy people. "Hey..." He mumbled, casting his eyes down, moving to the side of the bed in alarm as the boy plopped down to sit next to him, but a prickle of guilt at his quick judgment crept up his spine as the boy smiled dopily, eyes innocent and deceivingly young. "Are you in this cabin?" Stiles asked suddenly, wondering if the teen was even allowed in there.

Isaac nodded, nodding to the bunk above him "Yeah, I sleep above you." He grinned and looked at Stiles again. "We can be bunk buddies!" He said, before beginning a spiel of outlandish ideas they could embark on together, his manic eyes tracked Stiles' expression, yet showed no reaction to them. Stiles nodded slowly, a small nervous smile on his face, the boy's gestures were becoming more animated and bigger as he almost hit Stiles in his movements.

Just before the situation could freak Stiles out anymore, he heard a sharp rap on the door. Stiles shot up, grateful for the excuse to leave the situation. He liked Isaac so far, yet his never-ending energy was seemingly exhausting.

Stiles opened the door, somehow reluctant and happy to see the familiar face of Melissa. She smiled at him, but her eyes soon moved to Isaac, still sitting on his bed.

"Hey Stiles, I see you've met Isaac." She said softly, watching his expression as he nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "I've come to get you for your first group session," Stiles expression baulked, and she smiled encouragingly at him.

"It's really fun, and not all that you'd expect! We don't just do group therapy within the group, we also like to get to know each other a lot better than perhaps at other schools." Her words were tentative and sugar-coated, but Stiles knew exactly what she meant. Normal schools.

Isaac stood up and strolled over to them, placing an arm around Stiles, who instantly stiffened. "Isaac," Melissa warned, watching Stiles mortified expression. Isaac stepped away, arms held up in surrender, a grin on his face as he swerved oast them.

"Sorry Mel, I'll see you at the pit!" He walked off, hands shoved in his pockets as he began to hum an off-tune song, eyes up at the sky. Melissa tutted, and Stiles' eyebrows rose at the name.

"The Pit?" Stiles repeated apprehensively, a jitter beginning to work its way up his arm, spreading across him in waves of nerves.

Melissa shook her head dismissively. "A name the group have decided to give the room we hold group sessions in, I think it might be due to the rather unique architecture." She snorts, and Stiles frowns, more confused than before she'd spoken. "It was a theatre." She explains. Stiles' face remains blank. "It was a stage that was in the round, you'll see!" She says, face mischevious.

Surprises were not Stiles' strong suit.

She led him back up the path and towards the main building, entering through a large back door, weaving past other students as they talked animatedly to each other. Stiles' face remained stony as he fought the nerves threatening to claw up his throat and spill out, he wasn't sure he could trust himself to hold the panic in.

They walk through corridors with more of the gaudy posters, and Stiles grimaces, annoyed at their unending positivity. He tried to get his mind to wrench itself away from the subject and focused instead on the other students milling around them.

"How many students are there here?" He asked Melissa, who turned briefly, before walking on.

"87, well, 88 now with you." She said, and Stiles eyebrows' rose. "We try to keep numbers low to give everyone as much one on one support as they need."

"Oh," Stiles replied faintly, wondering about the other student's stories.

They finally reached a door at the end of the corridor, and Stiles stilled behind Melissa as she gestured to them. Pulling it open, she did a grand bow, gesturing inside.

"Welcome to the Pit."


	3. Meeting The Others

"Welcome to the Pit," Melissa said dramatically, grinning as Stiles walked past her, gaping in shock.

The room extended downward, the seats in a hexagonal formation as they wove down in rows towards a circular stage in the middle of the room. Stiles looked down to it, and let a brief smile flicker onto his face at the sight. Fairy lights were strung up around the tops of the seats, and as he stared at the seats he saw they were engraved with words. Squinting, he tried to read them, but the symbols were too small.

"They're goodbyes," Melissa said behind him, Stiles jumped, forgetting she was still near him. He turned to look at her, confusion evident on his face. She smiled softly, and sat on one of the seats, beckoning for him to sit by him. He did so, tentatively perched on the edge of his seat.

"Every time a student leaves, they leave their own mark, their own words behind. Its to show not only do we now have utter trust in them- they engrave the marks themselves-but that everyone can get to a happier place, with time and the right things." She smiled again, and Stiles stared at her, an uncertain look of shock dawning on his face.

"I really like that," He admitted, fiddling with his sleeve as he stared down at the stage below them. Melissa looked at him and thought that perhaps he may be closer to his recovery than she had initially thought, his shut off attitude had gradually diminished, and he seemed even now to be letting his guard down

A door opened below them, and a gaggle of teens, around Stiles' age, walked onto the stage, talking amongst themselves. Melissa promptly stood up, waving at them and gesturing for Stiles to follow her down to them. He edged past the seats warily, feeling his heart beat faster at the prospect of meeting new people.

They looked up at him, nudging each other knowingly before separating, dragging seats into the centre of the stage, forming a circle. As he and Melissa walked over, Stiles recognised Isaac as he sat down in the circle. He waved at Stiles, who smiled back at him, grateful to know at least one person there already.

Melissa sat down and gestured to the only other empty seat, next to her. He perched on the edge of his seat, frown on his face as his cheeks heated up, aware of the stares of the other people in the group.

"Hey everyone, thanks for getting here on time-" Melissa started, smiling at the various teens slumped on chairs around her. "This is Stiles, he's a new member of your group! Do any of you have anything you want to say?" Melissa asked, looking persuasively round the circle.

A girl waved at him, a small smile on her face. "Hi! I'm Cora, nice to meet you." She said sweetly. Stiles nodded at her, too overwhelmed to respond. Her smile wilted, and he felt guilty. This is why he didn't talk to people, damn his dad for making him do this!

Melissa smiled at her, and an uncomfortable silence began to fall. Taking a deep breath, Melissa consulted the clipboard propped in her lap and clapped her hands, making Stiles, and a few others in the group flinch at the sudden loud noise.

"Right, well we'll go round the circle-" Everyone groaned. "-and introduce ourselves." Melissa smiled at Stiles and nodded purposefully to the girl sitting on the other side of her.

The girl sighed and sighed uncomfortably. "I'm Erica. Hi." She said flatly, sinking further into her seat. Her blonde hair swept into her face as she batted it irritably away, her movements jittery and sudden. Melissa gave her an amiable smile and looked expectedly at the boy next to her.

"Jackson." He said, a bored expression on his face as he looked anywhere but at Stiles.

The teen sat hunched over in his seat and appeared to be even less welcoming than Erica. Stiles frowned as the panic in his stomach began to tug on his ribs, tickling his throat.

Isaac was sprawled into a chair next to Jackson, fighting a yawn, yet brightened up when he saw Melissa and Stiles' attention had turned to him. "Hey! I'm Isaac, which you already know, and you're Stiles, cool name." He said with a big grin on his face, eyes a little too bright to be comforting. Stiles nodded at him, a small, uncertain smile on his face. Melissa chuckled and nodded again.

A girl sat in the seat next to Isaac, Stiles watched as she fiddled absentmindedly with her long hair, before tucking it behind her ear. She looked up in surprise, to see everyone's eyes on her, an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm Cora Hale, nice to meet you." She seemed confident, and relaxed in her surroundings, making Stiles wonder why she had been admitted to Rosedale. When she'd finished speaking, she elbowed the boy next to her, who gave her a disgruntled glare and sat straighter in his chair.

Looking up, Stiles froze in shock. He stared at the boy, his eyes transfixed on the burn marks marring the side of his face, trailing under his collar and creeping up from his sleeves over the backs of his hands. The boy saw him looking, and glared at him, making Stiles wince and slump further into his seat, trying to escape his rage.

"Derek." The boy ground out, frown set on his face, but Stiles refused to look up as his cheeks turned red. He gritted his teeth and tried to calm himself down, but couldn't stop feeling ashamed at how he'd stared at the Dereks scars. People had done the same to him countless times, so why did he do the same to someone else? God, the guy probably hated him now, and Stiles hadn't said a single word.

Melissa let out a soft sigh, and Stiles cringed, aware he'd added to the tension in the room. There was a beat of silence whilst everyone sat awkwardly in the circle, trying to think of ways to avoid or diffuse the situation.

The girl sitting next to Derek suddenly clapped her hands, and gave the room a blinding smile, before daintily crossing her legs. "Hello Stiles, I'm Lydia." She said, a pompous look on her face, which intimidated Stiles greatly. He waved meekly at her, aware of her eyes boring holes into his skull. She nodded decisively at him, and he almost missed her glance at Melissa, who smiled reassuringly.

She sat back in her seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt and staring expectantly at the boy next to her, who also sat next to Stiles. He looked at her and gave a small huff of indignation, before turning and smiling at Stiles. "Hi, I'm Vernon, but everyone calls me Boyd. Nice to meet you." Stiles smiled at him, ducking his head as all the people around the circle once again started to stare at him. Stiles began to tug on his sleeves, twisting the fabric around his fingers in an attempt to distract himself from the people around him.

"Right, now everyone's acquainted, I have some good news," Melissa said, eyeing the manilla folder on her lap excitedly. Everyone looked at her dubiously, what could good news at Rosedale possibly be?

"It's group project time!"


	4. Maybe

"It's group project time!" Melissa chirped, a broad smile on her face. A beat of silence reigned over the group for a second, before a cacophony of complaints began to fall on her deaf ears.

Her smile turned to a grim almost frown as she refused to listen to any of the protests from the various teens sat around her, shuffling through her folder, she gave the teens the benefit of the doubt, in the hope they'd quieten down.

They did not quiten down.

Stiles caught his breath and tried to steady his breathing, focusing on his fingers as they laid knotted in his lap, trying to stop the shaking from being too apparent to the annoyed people around him.

"Guys! Listen to me," The loud voices interlacing with each other as they echoed around the room dulled to a lower hubbub, a small whisper or harried comment drifting out every now or again.

"This isn't optional, and you will all be participating." Her stony glare followed all of them as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "In pairs, you will be thinking, and creating a place- it could be anywhere-"

Melissa smiled eagerly, passing sheets of paper around the circle, before continuing. "-You will be writing what makes a certain place special to you, and how it makes you feel calm and happy." Melissa finished, smiling gently. Everyone considered the words, and Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, confused.

Melissa waited to see if anyone had any questions, then launched into her explanation again. "You'll showcase your peaceful place in any way you want to in two weeks." Stiles wilted, a frown back on his face. "Have a look at who I've paired you with on the sheets, then get to work!"

Melissa smiled tightly and picked up her binder again. Stiles sat in a numb shock as the meeting progressed, the sheet of paper wavering in his grip as his fingers failed to work as he wanted them to.

Stiles Stilinski & Derek Hale

Shit.

Remembering the earlier encounter, he fought back a groan, and the sick feeling bubbling up in his stomach. The meeting continued around him, but his thoughts had receded far into his mind. The voices of the other teens around him seemed to bounce off him, failing to go in, the entirety of their words sounding like an entirely foreign language as he fought back his panic.

He was dimly aware of Melissa's voice as she ended the session, and the loud scraping noise as the chairs around him were put away, but he sat still, breathing irregular and stunted.

The room quieted around him, but his heartbeat thumped under his ribcage in an incessant beat, thudding in his ears. He watched, eyes blurry as Melissa stood uncertainly in front of him.

"Stiles?" She asked, and he looked up, startled. His eyes tracked her as she walked slowly over to him, sitting in the one leftover chair next to him. "Are you worried about the group project, or is it more everything that's going on that's making you feel like this?" She asked, a small comforting smile on her face.

Stiles pulled a face, shrugging loosely, fingers pressed against his arm and the bandage underneath it. Feeling the sharp jolts of pain helped centre him again. Melissa's eyes tracked the movement and frowned. She stood up, about to breach the subject, but decided to leave it, until a few more days had passed.

"If you need to talk to me about the grouping I've put down, please come and talk to me, okay? And I'm always free to talk now." She hinted with a smaller smile back on her face. She spent her time helping teens who'd been through hell, but it never got easier to see them in such pain. Melissa let out a soft sigh and patted his shoulder, and began to make her way up the steps.

"I don't think I can do it." Stiles' voice sounded out behind her. She stopped on the stairs, turning round to look at him.

"The group project?" She checked, before walking back towards him. He frowned unhappily and nodded, shrinking into himself as she came closer. She nodded understandingly but was secretly still hoping she could get him to open up, and perhaps work out why he didn't want to do it.

"I don't think…" Stiles checked his sheet, looking at the names. "-Derek likes me very much." Melissa frowned, shaking her head slowly. "He glared at me all through the introductions, and I didn't mean to stare, and I feel so bad for doing it. If I could take it back I would-"

"Stiles," Melissa said, a slight smile on her face as she patiently listened to his rambling.

He looked at her for the first time in their conversation, his wide eyes full of worry and cheeks flushed red. "Yes?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay." Her words were simple, and Stiles frowned, waiting for her to say more. "Derek is working on himself, and I think you two will get along just fine."

Stiles wilted, and let out a long drawn out sigh. Melissa chuckled and gave him another smile.

"Thanks for the advice," Stiles said glumly, the usual sarcasm leaking back through now he was in a less tense atmosphere. Melissa chuckled and gave him a light pat on the back.

"Your welcome." She replied cheerfully. She checked her watch and nodded decisively. "It's lunch in about five minutes, so how about I take you to the cantine? It's a bit confusing if you don't know the layout of Rosedale straight away."

Stiles nodded fervently, just as his stomach gave an unfortunate rumble, making his cheeks turn redder. He stumbled up away from the stage after Melissa, eyes on the fairy lights strung around the room and the words carved into the seats around him. The room seemed to show everything that Rosedale stood for, and it made Stiles feel that maybe it was possible that he could be happy there.


	5. Top Bunk

Melissa lead Stiles over to a table in the centre of the hall, students crowded all around them as their curious stares bore into the teens back.

"This is you!" Melissa said, nodding at a table to the left of them, where all the teens he'd met before sat around it, in various states of excitement.

Derek seemed nonplussed.

Stiles nodded nervously, unwilling to move at all. Melissa smiled softly, turning to face him. "It's going to seem scary at first, of course, it will, but remember those kids were in the same situation as you not so long ago, they know how you feel." Stiles nodded again, face pale, before setting his jaw and heading to the only spare seat, right next to Derek. Looking up to see everyone's eyes on him, he wondered if they'd done it on purpose.

"Hey." He said meekly, fingers fiddling with the plate set in front of him, wishing he could merge into the hubbub of the surrounding students.

"Hey, we can introduce ourselves properly now," Lydia said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and staring at him expectantly. Another beat of silence reigned over the group before Stiles realised they meant that he should introduce himself.

"Oh!" A blush began to flare up on his cheeks. "Uh, hi. I'm Stiles." Erica looked confused, and Jackson scoffed, making Stiles scowl despite his nerves. He could already tell he didn't like the boy. "It's a nickname, my real name is worse." He said quickly, face stony.

"Ohh," Ericka said, nodding understandingly. Stiles blush returned with full force as she flashed him a dazzling smile, blonde hair bouncing as she flicked it over her shoulder. "Well hey, I'm Erica, which you know." She smiled, "and this-" She elbowed Boyd next to her, who grunted and gave her a withering stare. "-is my boyfriend!"

Stiles' eyes widened in shock, the two seemed like polar opposites, but the more he looked, it seemed the two really did like each other.

Lydia looked at the two in disdain as they held hands, fingers entwining on the top of the table. Clearing her throat, she successfully draws attention from the loved up couple back to her. She balanced her head on her hands, before deigning the table with a graceful smile.

"I'm Lydia." She said, delicately smoothing out her long sleeves, and Stiles eyes zoomed in on a small red line peeking out of the woollen fabric. A moment of understanding goes through his head, and he realises he seemingly has something in common with the girl, as confusing as it was. Although he realised exactly why he had hurt himself, he was increasingly confused as to why Lydia did it too. She saw him looking, and a scowl crossed her face as she quickly moved her hands under the table, masking them from view.

Isaac sat on the other side of Stiles, next to Jackson. The two seemed to be in a heated debate on the logistics of how to sneak out of the cabins for a night. Were they planning on escaping?

"No, you can't go over the fence, they'll see you!" Isaac scoffed, a smirk on his face as he dramatically reclined in his seat. After seeing Stiles' curious eyes. He sat back up, trying to tamper down his smile, and failing. "Hypothetically."

Jackson huffed and rolled his eyes. "This isn't a prison, there are no cameras."

Isaac shook his head knowingly. "No, it wouldn't work, trust me. Melissa sees all."

Everyone else laughed, and Stiles let out a small snort, happy to join in with the antics. He went quiet though as Derek's eyes turned to him, scowl still firmly in place. Stiles turned away, looking at his lap, still conscious of the other teen's eyes boring into the side of his head. What did he want?

Boyd nudged Derek, who turned to glare at him in response. The two were the most silent of the group but somehow seemed to communicate just as well with the use of their eyebrows. Derek let out a long sigh, before turning to Stiles, still not looking at his face.

"I'm Derek." Stiles waited for him to say anything else, but that seemed to be the end of the interaction.

"Hey, I'm Stiles," Stiles answered, looking at his face, waiting for him to look in his general direction. He tried to ignore the burns marring his skin as he waited for the teen to reply. He was disappointed. Only when he turned away did Derek turn to him, and once again stare at the side of his face. It made Stiles' cheeks turn redder than he thought possible. The teen was broody, silent, and angry. But Stiles was never so good at talking, so Derek Hale had begun to edge his way into his heart, a small spur of light, who knew where it would lead?

For the rest of lunch, Stiles sat picking at his food, too nervous to stomach anything as he listened to the others conversations, always hyper-aware of Derek sitting next to him, and the glares he frequently threw at him. It made his stomach churn, and he wasn't sure if the feeling was good, or altogether extremely bad.

A bell rings twenty minutes later, making Stiles jump violently, and the others stifle a snigger at his face. He mentally face palms, letting his fork clatter onto his plate, cheeks once again on fire as he slowly stood up, tugging down his sleeves and following the others as they left the hall.

Melissa had told him that now they had a free period, so he decided to go back to the cabin. Meeting all the people in his group had been exhausting, the tremors in his hands only now beginning to slow to a stop. Reaching the door, he took a moment to stare at his surroundings. The path lead down to other cabins tucked into the large clearing, and the trees stretched on for as far as he could see. Far off to the south, the ground began to slope upwards, to the summit of the mountain which was on the glossy photos on the Rosedale' leaflet. It wasn't any less spectacular in real life. Turning back to the door, he cracked it open and ducked inside, letting out a relieved sigh as he felt the sun dim as it shut behind him. He headed over to his bunk, flopping onto it with a huff, face first. Letting himself wilt into the covers, he sat up, eyes still closed.

Minutes later, he opened them, a light relaxed smile on his face, only to flinch back in shock. Derek stood over by the door to the bathroom, eyes fixed intently on him. He didn't move or say anything when he saw the teen had seen him, but moved closer, watching as Stiles shrank back on his bed.

"Um, hi?" Stiles squeaked, looking up at him as he walked closer. Derek didn't reply, simply going to the side of the bed and vaulting onto the top bunk. A beat of silence passed, Stiles sat in shock, before Derek upside down face popped over the top of the bed.

"I got top bunk."


	6. Pot plants and other peculiarities

"I got top bunk," Derek said plainly, poker-faced even as his hair began to fall over his forehead as he leaned upside down over the bed.

Stiles stared back at him with uncertainty, a little scared, but mostly confused. "Okay?" He said, the statement turning into an amused question in the light of the bizarre situation. He started to fidget, cheeks turning hot as Derek continued to stare at him, refusing to move. The more he looked at the teen, he tried not to let his eyes wander to the burns peeking out from the fabric of Derek's shirt. They marred his smooth, slightly hairy skin in a way which must be some of the reason he was sent to Rosedale.

Stiles frowned, lost in his thoughts as Derek pulled himself back up onto his top bed with a grunt. It must be awful to have everything wrong with you left on your skin for all to see. But as he thought about it, he understood Derek's situation, after all, it was the exact same one he himself was in.

Coming back to reality, he slowly looked up, hearing the bed slightly creak as it adjusted to Derek above him. Stiles quickly stood up, feeling his heart hammering in his chest at the boxed-in space of his bed. Derek looked up at him as he crunched on an energy bar, cursing as it fell into his lap. Stiles snickered, blushing when Derek looked at him, narrowing his eyes.

There was a brief lapse of noise as Derek and Stiles stared at each other awkwardly, Stiles looked away, fingers playing with the fabric of his sleeve absentmindedly as it caught on the bandages underneath. Derek looked down to it, eyes going dark, it was easy enough to understand why Stiles was in there. He snapped back to his usual state of broodiness though, after a few seconds, and hopped off of the side of the bed, sniggering as he made Stiles jump.

Letting out a small exasperated huff of air, Stiles Turned around to deliberately face in the other direction as Derek, who shrugged and began to eat his energy bar again.

"So, what are we doing about our project?" Stiles suddenly asked, whirling around to accusingly stare at Derek, who seemed to have been nothing but irritating since the moment he'd met him.

Derek paused mid-bite and shrugged. "Whatever you want, I guess." He said, voice gruff. Stiles raised his eyebrow, confused at the easy-going approach the teen had.

"Oh-kay…" Stiles replied, now somewhat unsure on where to go with his plans. "Would you like to meet up in our free period every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, maybe?" His voice petered off as he began to feel more embarrassed as Derek failed to say anything more.

"Sure," Derek replied instantly, nodding amiably as he gazed at Stiles. He looked him up and down, making Stiles sit back on his bed as he tried to think of something to do, fiddling with his cuffs.

They both looked up as the muffled sound of several voices could be heard through the door, coming closer. The door soon opened, and the rabble of teens barged through the door, soon stopping when they saw Derek and Stiles. A beat of heavy silence passed before they resumed their conversation again, past the surprise of seeing the two together.

"Hey, Stiles, hey Derek!" Isaac said, a big grin on his face, which was flushed and warm.

Derek gave him a gruff nod, whilst Stiles greeted him back, returning the smile.

"I think it'll be Nemo." Erica said decisively, plopping herself down onto Stiles' bed, ignoring his squeak of protest. Boyd leaned on the bed next to Stiles, effectively boxing him in on both sides. Stiles didn't seem to mind though, and though he'd never tell a soul, he was enjoying the company, however forced it was.

Jackson vigorously shook his head, propping his feet up on his bed opposite Stiles. "Why the hell would it be Nemo?" He asked disgustedly, looking put off. "Anything but Nemo…"

"What's happening tonight?" Stiles asked timidly, shrinking into himself when everyone's eyes turned to him.

"Movie night!" They chorused, offended he hadn't been aware of it.

"Only the best part of the shitty week." Lydia said primly, sitting demurely on the third bunk and smoothing out her skirt.

Stiles nodded, fishing through the pile of glossy leaflets on his bed to get the school timetable, and skimming over the events for the day.

"But we never know what movie it is until we get there, so we always try to guess." Isaac supplied, looking smug.

Boys rolled his eyes, looking unimpressed. "So far I'm undefeated on the right amount of films I've guessed. And you're not catching up." He directed at Isaac, who shrugged his shoulders cheerfully and reached under his bed to get some potato chips. Stiles looked at them mournfully, cursing his stomach for rumbling at such an inopportune moment. Isaac said nothing, instead tossing over the bag into Stiles' lap, who nodded gratefully at him.

He'd almost forgotten about Derek, who'd climbed onto the bunk above him as soon as the conversation had started, but he had obviously decided to weigh in on the situation.

"Wall-E." Derek said, leaning on his elbows to peer at the people below him. Everyone groaned and shook their heads.

"Derek, you've never gotten a single one right so far!" Chuckled Erica, as Boyd elbowed her in the side, making her squeal.

"I'm certain of it." Shrugged Derek, refusing to accept their doubt, maybe today would be the day he got it right.

Stiles looked confused but didn't want to speak again. Jackson saw his expression and understood what he meant.

"They never play any good movies because it's bound to make someone go crazy, or crazier than we already are." He grouched, looking annoyed.

Stiles nodded meekly, seeing how Rosedale seemed to be on tenterhooks at all times, only one bad decision away from a breakdown, much alike to its students.

"Maybe it'll be The Bee Movie?" He said quietly, happy to be included in, Lydia hummed in agreement, whilst Isaac looked more dubious.

"Nah, I don't think so." He said, grabbing his chips back off of Stiles, and chomping down the last few. "We should probably get to the hall, it's film time!" He said, finger tapping on his leg, making Jackson narrow his eyes at the offending article.

They all traipsed out of the cabin, walking in a huddle along the darkening path, Derek and Stiles trailing along at the back.

"So what happens if they guess the movie right?" Stiles quietly asked Derek, who looked over at him.

"Nothing," Derek replied flatly, a small grin on his face. "It's completely pointless, but what else is there to do?"

Snorting amusedly, Stiles agreed. Though Rosedale did seem like it was trying to be good, how good could a school for the mentally unstable be?

They joined the other students as they filed into the hall, a low hum of chatter filling the high ceilings. The floor was set out with blankets and pillows, the fairy lights illuminated and casting a soft glow on the cosy room. Stiles' eyes widened, and he let a small smile onto his face, the room beckoning to him.

Erica plopped down on a blanket in the middle of the room, beckoning to the rest of the group, who sit down around her, curling into the cushions and pillows. Stiles slowly sat at the back of the group, hyper-aware of Derek as he sat down next to him. The lights were turned off, so only the soft, dim glow of the fairy lights lit up the room.

Everyone hyper-aware of their voices, a hush descending over them all, as Melissa stepped out to the front of the hall.

"Hey, guys! It's been a long day," She cast an eye over to them, making Stiles' cheeks go hot. "-so sit back and relax for tonight's movie..." A drum roll goes around the room. "- Nemo!"

And audible groan comes from the group, and a small whoop from Erica's direction, as she grins and elbows Boyd, who chuckles, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, one point to you." He suggests, giving her a light kiss on the nose.

Stiles turns away, feeling a pang of loneliness, but quickly squashing it down as Melissa walks away, turning on the movie.

As the movie progresses, Stiles finds himself wilting into the pillow, jerking awake every few seconds as a loud noise came from the screen. Derek sits next to him, reclined on his nest made out of the blankets he'd collected from around him.

A few hours later, whilst the film was in its last few scenes, everyone in the hall spoke in either hushed whispers or tried to fight off sleep. Only some were successful.

"What did you think?" Derek murmured, making Stiles jump. He turned around to look at him, watching as he slowly sat up from his pile of blankets.

"About what?" Stiles quietly asked, eyes cast down as he fiddled with his sleeve.

"The movie," Derek said as if it was obvious. Stiles looked confused, his head flicking to the screen, then nodded in understanding.

"I like it, I guess." He replied meekly, unsure of why Derek was even speaking to him. Derek nodded but didn't look away from Stiles. Why did Derek even care what Stiles thought about the movie?

Derek hummed, slowly moving forward to sit next to Stiles, who shrank in on himself, heart beating too fast. He tried to concentrate on the movie again but found it impossible.

At any other time his senses would be sharp, tuning in on every single thing and everyone in the room, but when Derek was so close, he didn't know how to feel, and all he could hear was his breathing as he settled back down next to him.

Stiles jumped, going red when he felt Derek's fingers on his back, ducking his head as Lydia turned round to look at him, the fingers halted as she turned around, and when she turned back to the movie, Derek's fingers moved around, trailing over his skin. Stiles looked over at him, eyes wide.

"Wha-" He started to say but was stopped as Derek shook his head, eyes still trained on the film. A few agonising seconds passed, where Derek's fingers traced the prickling skin on his back. He hooked his arm around Stiles' side, until he sat next to him, with his arm curled around him.

Finally, he looked at Stiles, as if asking if what he was doing was okay. Stiles gaped, his cheeks flushed, but a small prickle of heat made him wordlessly nod, allowing Derek to continue.

They sat for the rest of the movie with Derek wound around Stiles, as he sat, stunned. He'd never seen it coming, Derek had barely said a word to him for the entirety of the day, and other than a few lingering stares, what made him like him?

When the credits rolled onto the screen, Stiles had wilted into Derek's side, who had his cheek pressed against Stiles' head. The lights overhead flicked on, making Stiles sit bolt upright. Derek sat up too, letting out a yawn and giving Stiles a grin. Stiles was still bright red but managed a wobbly smile in return.

Melissa returned to the front of the hall, pausing the movie and turning off the projector. "I hope everyone enjoyed it," She checked her watch. "You've got an hour and a half before lights out, so you can go back to your cabins or stay here, night everyone!" She said cheerfully, heading away again.

Stiles stood up slowly, unsure of what to do as Derek stood up, stretching languidly next to him. They stood next to each other, Stiles looking at the floor to avoid eye contact.

"You want to go back to the cabin?" Derek asked gruffly, back to his usual self, if a tiny bit less monosyllabic.

"Later?" Stiles said quietly, hands starting to shake at the strange events. "I'm going to, uh, get some air." He said, struggling to think of an excuse so that he could calm himself down. Derek looked dubious, so Stiles gave him a smile, making sure he knew that...yes. He wanted this.

The realisation hit him hard, it had only been a day. Derek barely knew him, why did he want him? Was Stiles ready to date? He didn't come to Rosedale for romance, but maybe it was an added bonus.

As they ambled over the path away from the hall, Stiles nodded goodbye to Derek and the others who headed along another path, fishing for the map that he had earlier shoved into his pocket.

Slowing to a halt, he traced the path he was on with his finger, the tremors subsiding as they stopped at the river only a few minutes down the path.

Shoving his hands in his pocket, he let out a long, shaky sigh. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he craned his neck up to stare at the stars.

It was so different to him and his dad's tiny apartment in the city, where light pollution had blocked out the stars, but now he could count hundreds and thousands above him. He counted them again and again, feeling his heartbeat calm as he tracked the moons slow descent beside the stars.

A few minutes later, he reached the edge of the river as the sound of the other students filtered off to almost silence, only the low hum of the nightlife and the rushing of the river greeting his ears.

Stiles slowed down and headed over to a nearby tree, the branches sloping down to lean over the river as the leaves rustled quietly. Stiles flopped onto the ground, leaning against its trunk, and taking a moment to breathe, and try to get the thoughts in his head to slow down and relax.

Letting his head thunk back onto the bark, he let out another slow breath, bringing his fingers up to watch them as they stopped shaking.

Closing his eyes, Stiles let the sound of the water wash over him, taking deep breaths and running his fingers through the grass. The noise begins to lull him to sleep, but as a particularly loud bird squawked above him, he jolted awake, letting out a small laugh at his earlier fear.

He began to fiddle with his sleeve, staring at the fabric in deep thought. Slowly, he undid the buttons on his plaid shirt, as if in a trance. Pulling it back, he stared at the stark, white bandage, as if checking if it was still there. A few white and red scars peeked out from the sides of the bandage, and Stiles traced then with shaky fingers.

The sudden sound of footsteps sounded from the path behind him, jerking him out of the trance as he hurriedly pulled the fabric of his shirt back down over the bandage and fiddled with the buttons at the ends, getting more agitated as he failed to do it.

Looking up, he saw Isaac, who smiled at him happily. "Hey, dude," He said, flopping down beneath the tree next to him.

"Hey," Stiles replied quietly, heart still hammering from the hasty dressing.

"We've got 15 minutes till lights out," Isaac said, his arm jerking as he tapped on it. Stiles looked startled, surprised at how long he'd been sat underneath the tree for.

Neither of them moved, content to spend as long as they could in the dim calm of the river.

"This place is pretty good when you get used to it," Isaac said enthusiastically, nudging Stiles, who stared mournfully into the dark water.

"You think so?" Stiles asked, still trying to button up the sleeves of his shirt.

Isaac nodded, a fond smile on his face. "For sure. When I first got here, I was manic." Isaac chortled, staring out at the trees on the other side of the river, ignoring Stiles' gaze.

"For the first few days, I was on top of the world. But then I crashed." He whispered, turning to Stiles. "But I had made it through without hurting me, or anyone else. And I felt slightly less terrible." He smiled.

Stiles looking at him, nudging him amiably to show his support. "You're bipolar?" He asked.

Isaac huffed, shrugging his shoulders. "If that's what you want to call it, it's what they diagnosed me with." Stiles nodded, understanding.

"I don't think I should be here," Stiles said quietly. Isaac stared at him.

"If they admitted you, they sure had a reason." He said coldly. "And that bandage on your arm says differently.

Stiles stiffened, remembering Isaac had seen him when that morning when he'd gotten to Rosedale.

"Are you too sane to be with us crazies?" Isaac asked sarcastically, moving away from Stiles.

"No!" Stiles was quick to say, shaking his head vigorously. "I mean, I just think someone deserves my spot here more than I do." His voice petered off into a whisper.

Isaac snorted, making Stiles look at him in indignation. "If you don't even think you deserve a place at a mental asylum, then Melissa's got more on her hands than I thought." He laughed, smiling over as Stiles joined in with his snickers.

"C'mon, let's go back to the cabin," Stiles said with a smile on his face.

Suddenly, he remembered the movie, and what had happened with Derek, and he felt the warm, happy feeling in his stomach grow bigger. He'd made a new friend of Isaac, and also possibly, something else, something more, with Derek. He helped Isaac stand up, and they traipsed back up the path, talking amiably as the cabins came into view.


End file.
